


Somewhere In Between

by PretzelPuppy



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Pregnancy, after 2x08, soft!villanelle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2020-09-24 16:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PretzelPuppy/pseuds/PretzelPuppy
Summary: Villanelle arrives at Eve’s one rainy night with a bag in hand. And a bun in the oven.But while Vilanelle is building a life she never thought she would have, Eve is not ready for Villanelle to waltz back into her home and destroy everything that Eve had built for herself all over again.Still, their magnetic pull to each other persists.





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Long time reader but my first fic ever! Here ya go, world. Take care of my baby (or Villanelle’s baby? 😱)
> 
> Totally open to constructive criticism as well, though. So scrap what I just said. Rip me to shreds.
> 
> xxx

Villanelle arrived at the door drenched. The rain was torrential. Eve was so shocked that she didn’t, at first glance, even think to invite Villanelle into her warm house.

Villanelle seemed even smaller, even more childlike than the moments after their fateful conversation in Rome. Meek. She seemed soft around the edges, hazy. Or maybe that was Eve’s shock.

Eve managed to clear her throat. “What do you want?” 

“Well, you could let me in - for a start.”

“Why should I? The last time I saw you I got shot.”

Villanelle only half rolled her eyes. She wrapped an arm around herself. The rain was unrelenting.

Her eyes met Eve’s again and fixed her with a stony glare. “I am going to get a cold out here, Eve.”

There it was. That arrogance that Eve had grown so accustomed to with Villanelle. She knew it would be there somewhere.

“Let me in.” 

At this Eve made to swing the door closed, but Villanelle caught it swiftly.

“Wait.” 

“Go away.”

“I am pregnant, Eve!” Villanelle was visibly annoyed now. The full eye roll was happening. “I need you to let me in. Please. I don’t know what to do.”

And that’s how they ended up at Eve’s dining room table, each with a cup of tea. 

“No champagne, Eve?” Villanelle had smirked. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking.” 

“You are no fun.” 

Villanelle pouted and sipped her tea but quickly drew it away from her lips when she realised it was far too hot.

Eve, on the other hand, held her mug too close to her fingers. They were probably burning but she couldn’t tell - she was numb all over.

“Can I have some more milk? It is too hot.” 

Eve nodded in the direction of the fridge.

She watched Villanelle as she stood from the table. She looked for a bump poking out from her form, some evidence to ground her in this new reality. 

Vilanelle saw her looking on the way back from the fridge. “I am not fat yet, Eve. You can still see it a little bit, though. Would you like to see?” Her smile turned a tinge devilish. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

Eve looked up at her from her spot at the table. She could barely string together a sentence.

Villanelle placed the milk on the table and shuffled up her shirt, unveiling an expanse of undeniably perfect skin and yes, undeniably - a perfect round bump. Villanelle smoothed her hand over her belly.

Eve finally summoned the courage to ask the golden question.

“Whose baby is it?”

Villanelle let out a laugh.

“Don’t worry, it is not yours.”

“What are you going to do?” She looked up at her eyes, which had quickly shifted away from Eve’s face.

Villanelle shoved her shirt back over her belly and leaned on the table. She ran a hand through her hair.

“I do not know. I do not know what to do, Eve. I wished this had never happened.”

“I’m sorry about Rome.” Eve blurted this out without thinking, it seemed a natural response to seeing Villanelle in distress. 

“That was shitty Eve, but it is unrelated to the problem at hand.” Villanelle appeared annoyed that Eve had even brought it up.

Eve sighed. She inched an hand over to where Villanelle’s fingers were resting on the table top. Villanelle’s heart skipped a beat at the contact, and Eve felt as though she had been waiting for that particular moment ever since that day the mission went to shit in Rome.

She stood, and pulled Villanelle into an embrace. She inhaled her scent. It occurred to Eve that they had never really hugged before. It felt nice. 

That night, Villanelle and Eve made up the couch with bedsheets, and Villanelle borrowed a set of Eve’s pyjamas. Her own were soaked through from the rain. 

“They are itchy, Eve. Why are they itchy? Are all of your pyjamas cotton?” The look on her face made it clear she thought this was a disgrace.

She waited until Villanelle was well and truly settled in her makeshift bed before offering to turn off the lights.

“Will you be upstairs?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. I will see you tomorrow.”

“See you then, Villanelle.”

She made to leave, but was caught by the look in Villanelle’s eye, tucked into her little bed. It was a look that screamed for more. A look that was yearning.

Eve’s hand hovered on the door frame before finding herself back by the couch, running a hand over Villanelle’s cheek. Villanelle leaned into Eve’s hand. 

“It’s going to be ok.”

She could see that Villanelle didn’t entirely believe her, but she nodded anyway. 

Eve leaned down, placing the gentlest of kisses on the corner of her mouth. It wasn’t quite platonic, but it wasn’t what you would expect from your partner either. It was somewhere in between. And maybe that’s what they were.


	2. On the Heath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, round 2! Thank you for your lovely feedback on chap 1. Mwah. xxx

The next day, Eve rose early. She tiptoed down the stairs and quietly slipped her runners on. 

She was looking forward to a run. She had been for a one almost everyday for the past two years.

She had never been a particularly athletic person, but after Rome, Eve had realised there was something missing in her life - healthy coping mechanisms. A few years ago, Eve had been, frankly, unstable. 

Blood and psychopaths, Eve's violent delights, had all too quickly shattered her old life into a million tiny pieces. Her marriage and career had evaporated. Those violent delights had manifested into their violent ends.

Eve liked to think that she was at peace. She didn't blame Niko, or Carolyn. Or Villanelle. She didn't even blame herself. She tried her best to exercise compassion towards herself these days.

She realised she had to find a way to centre herself and stop those dangerous spirals of self destruction. Her mind was busy though - and mediation and yoga didn't cut it.

Running, however, was perfect. It was a little bit painful, but the pain was enough to distract her.

Eve was just about to tie her hair up and head out the door when she saw Villanelle shuffle into the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes were alert, as always. But her fluffy, messy hair betrayed the fact that she had only just rolled off her couch-bed in Eve's living room.

“For a run.”

“Oh. Can I come?” 

Eve shrugged. “Sure.”

Villanelle waited until they were fully ready to go and Eve had locked the door before declaring that she had absolutely no intention to run. She would walk only.

Of course.

They made their way to Hampstead Heath, as it wasn't too far away from Eve's house and it was by far her favourite place to run. Or, in this case, walk.

“Did you sleep well?” Villanelle asked.

“Fine. You?”

“Hmmm. Not so well. The baby is pressing on my blood vessels. I cannot sleep on my stomach. It is not so comfortable. And he has started to move. Especially at night. Little shit.”

Villanelle seemed annoyed at the being inside her showing normal signs of development, but rested a protective hand on her bump anyway. It made Eve wonder what kind of mother she was going to be.

“Is it a boy?” Eve asked.

“Better be,” was Villanelle's reply. 

Eve almost let out a laugh at Villanelle's unwavering sense of entitlement. She really hadn't changed.

They found a seat amongst a clearing on top of a hill. Eve thought London was beautiful from up there. Especially when it was misty like it was that morning, the pollution and ugly skylines obscured.

Eve looked across to Villanelle, who was also absorbing the view, and decided to go for the million dollar question.

Eve bit her lip and readied herself for the backlash.

“Why did you keep it?”

At first, Villanelle did not react at all. She kept her dark eyes trained on the view. Eve wasn't even sure if she was breathing. She had learnt though, that most times, if you simply left a question hanging in the silence for long enough, the weight of it often became too heavy and the other person would just -

“You would not understand, Eve.”

“What, because I've never had kids?”

Villanelle frowned and turned to face Eve.

“No, because you have a family.”

“What do you mean?”

Villanelle let out a frustrated sigh and turned away. “My whole life Eve, people have left me for their families. Anna for her husband. You,” She closed her eyes briefly and lowered her voice, “Konstantin for his stupid daughter. Everyone always went running back to their families. And me? I have no family, Eve. Nothing. They are all dead. I would not even want to know them if they were alive.”

Eve let Villanelle's words drift between them for a moment. She knew Villanelle was capable of feeling the sting of rejection, obviously (that much was evident by the bullet wound scar on her hip).

But Eve had never done the maths on the way Villanelle had been rejected in this particular way over and over again, and if she had, she certainly would never have guessed that it equaled a baby.

“Of course, I did want to get rid of it. I do not like children. But then I thought: this might be it, Eve. Maybe I can have something of my own. Someone who will never leave me.”

Eve nodded, but wondered if Villanelle also realised that children needed a sense of security, too. Children also needed to know that they would never be abandoned. She had doubts about Villanelle's ability to provide that.

Eve shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts.

Villanelle glanced across. “Are you cold, Eve? I can keep you warm?” Her hand reached out to grab Eve's but Eve quickly stood up. 

“I need to go grocery shopping.”

“Oooooh-kay.”

Eve had already started off down the hill when she heard Villanelle mutter softy behind her, “We are so domestic, Eve.” She didn't see Villanelle's little smile but she knew it was there. The thought of it pulled at her heartstrings for so many reasons.

Eve pushed the trolley down the aisles with Villanelle trailing behind her, sucking on a lollipop they hadn’t yet paid for. Eve had decided to pick her battles. She had a feeling that there was a big one coming.

“What do you want for dinner?” Villanelle asked, reading the ingredient list of a bottle of Worcestershire sauce.

“Oh.” Eve paused for a minute. “How do you feel about going to see a movie tonight?”

Villanelle's eyes lit up and she quickly shoved the bottle back in a spot where it definitely didn't belong.

“Oooh sure. What do you want to see? Actually, it doesn't matter what we see, we can just make out in the back. I have never made out in a cinema before, Eve.” She was clearly enjoying the idea and Eve was loath to burst her bubble. Her and Villanelle making out in a cinema. Something in her hummed contentedly at the thought. But. She couldn't.

“Actually, why don’t you go by yourself? I always fall asleep in movies anyway.”

Villanelle swivelled around to frown at Eve.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Eve grimaced. “Maybe.”

“Why?”

“I have a visitor tonight.”

“Who?”

“We’re not discussing this.”

“What do you mean you mean ‘we are not discussing this’? Who is it Eve?”

Eve sighed.

“Niko.”

“I thought you were divorced.”

“We are divorced.”

“Then why is he coming over?”

“We're friends. We have dinner together every Sunday. I make the roast, he brings the wine. It’s very civilised.”

“I do not understand why you have dinner together when you are divorced. Are you having sex with him Eve?”

“What? God, no.”

“I do not understand this, Eve. Tell me the truth.”

“Look! I'm not asking you to understand. I'm just asking you to vacate the house for a few hours so that Niko doesn't feel uncomfortable.”

She smiled in a way that could make some people's stomachs churn.

“I promise I won't be naughty.”

Eve scoffed.

“Pleaseeeee.” She poked out her bottom lip and tucked a loose strand of Eve's hair behind her ear. “We could even have some fun with it, you know,” she said, smirking.

At this, Eve's stomach dropped a little. She could not, under any circumstances, let Villanelle have fun with this. But she was beginning to see that she might have no choice other than to sit down to dinner with both Niko and Villanelle.

“Fine.” Eve snapped, turning on her heels and marching toward the deli section of the supermarket.

Villanelle smiled smugly and skipped to keep up with Eve. “And Eve, you really should let me cook. Just so we have something edible, you know.” Villanelle smiled and patted her shoulder as she gently pushed Eve off the helm of the shopping cart.

At this, Eve said a silent prayer to a god she wasn't sure existed. 

...please, do not let that poor man get poisoned...

For Niko’s sake, she hoped that God really was out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: dinner! Will post in the coming days.


	3. Pasta Night!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like any good custard, we are going to add some heat and see how the plot thickens in this one. But also just a lot of Niko & Villanelle pushing each other's buttons. And Villanelle finding out that Eve might have changed a little more than she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not suuuuper happy with this one but here it is anyway! Enjoy, friends x

Villanelle skipped home from the shop. This was going to be fun.

She had decided to make linguine carbonara with crispy pancetta. Eve pretended to frustrated that Villanelle had taken over her kitchen but she did concede that it smelt amazing.

Eve kept a watchful eye on Villanelle as she rolled out the pasta dough and kneaded it under her strong, pale hands.

Now that the dust had settled, Eve observed that Villanelle had definitely changed in some way. She was still striking, of course, but she had gained a maturity in her face. There was an angularity in her cheeks that was more prominent than before. Minuscule lines had started to reveal themselves near her eyes. They were beautiful. Eve wondered what she had been through over the past two years that let Villanelle achieve those first markers of true adulthood. Her hair was still long, smooth and possibly more blonde than before. Her hair had always had a movement and liveliness about it.

She was wearing a white dress with long sleeves and a ruffles at the collar. It had a wide tie around the waist that made the whole ensemble look startlingly domestic when tied up - almost as if she was wearing an apron. She watched as Villanelle dipped a fork into her nearly finished pasta, fishing out a few creamy strands.

Villanelle's eyes flickered up to catch Eve's as she watched her.

“You want to taste, Eve?” Villanelle asked.

“Oh - um…”

Before Eve could find something to say, Villanelle was waving a pasta wrapped fork in front of Eve's mouth.

“Oh, I'll just -” Eve reached out to take the fork from Villanelle, but she snatched her hand away from Eve's grasp in an instant. She wasn't going to give in until Eve let herself be fed.

Eve had given up rolling her eyes earlier in the morning because she was sure that the repetitive movement was starting to damage her vision.

So, she took a quick breath and parted her lips. Villanelle watched indulgently as Eve licked the sides of her mouth clean of the messy sauce. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response from Eve.

“It's good,” she managed.

Villanelle hummed.

“I could have made this for you in Rome, Eve,” she swiped, with a fake sigh.

Eve nearly choked on her mouthful of pasta. Villanelle's casual references to what could have been were worrying. It was almost as if she was inferring what might be as well. 

Eve also felt a twinge of annoyance at Villanelle. Yes, Eve had rejected her. But only one of them had drawn a gun and it sure as hell was not Eve.

“So how is Niko?” Villanelle asked, drawing Eve from her thoughts.

Eve frowned. “He's good. You can ask him tonight.”

“Is he still with that girl? What was her name?”

“Gemma?”

“Oh yes. That is right. Gemma.”

“It's probably best you don't mention Gemma,” Eve sighed.

Villanelle looked up from the pantry where she was rummaging and feigning disinterest.

“Bad break-up?”

“She died. Suicide. It was very sudden.” Eve rubbed the back of her neck vigorously and struggled to look at Villanelle while they spoke. Eve was still overcome with guilt whenever she thought about Gemma; the lonely, needy woman who had loved her technically unavailable ex-husband. 

Eve did not often feel remorseful. It was just not a big part of her emotional landscape. But with hindsight, knowing that she and Niko were never going to go the distance anyway, Eve wished she had let Gemma have a little bit more peace with him. She wasn't even sure if that would have changed things, though.

Villanelle was quiet. Eve wondered if she had ventured into emotional territory that Villanelle did not understand. She was just about to wipe away the single tear balancing in her eye when she felt a tender hand on her body, moving across her shoulders and drawing her in.

Villanelle inhaled the scent of Eve. It was a treat to be this close to her and she was eating it up like candy. She felt a wetness on her neck and it made Villanelle feel impatient. She did not like it when Eve was upset. But what was she supposed to say? “Oh, do not worry honey! It it not your fault! I killed her!”

No, that was not going to do. This was Villanelle's second chance. Not just with Eve, but at life. She was not going to let Gemma ruin it, not even from the grave.

When Niko arrived, Eve greeted him at the door. Villanelle peeked out from the hallway to watch them. When Eve opened the door, she hugged Niko immediately. He kissed her cheek. Villanelle caught a glimpse of a smile from Eve. A real smile. She had not smiled like that when Villanelle had arrived. It stung.

Eve had beelined for the door partly because that's what they always did and partly because she needed to warn him that they were having dinner with a retired assassin. Was she retired? The last few days had been such a blur and Eve felt a small amount of bile rising up her throat as she realised that she actually had no idea what Villanelle's status was.

When they walked in to the kitchen, therefore, Niko and Eve's faces were both rather pale.

Villanelle, on the other hand, was glowing. She bounced up to Eve and wrapped an arm around her shoulder before addressing Niko.

“Niko! It has been too long.”

Eve watched Niko’s eyes trace down Villanelle's face, then to her belly poking out from her dress and the way her fingers were caressing Eve's shoulder. Eve suddenly understood it all - the domesticity, the apron dress, the touching. It was a jealous game. A show.

Niko turned to Eve. “I thought it was just going to be us tonight.”

Villanelle grinned. “The more the merrier, right?” 

Eve wondered if Villanelle knew that it was usually not the extra party to the situation who used that phrase.

“Have you been well, Niko?” Villanelle asked as she dished the pasta into bowls.

“Fine.”

“And school?”

“Fine.”

Villanelle handed the last plate to Niko and he eyed it with suspicion as they seated themselves at the table. 

Villanelle poured the wine into three glasses

Eve shot her a look but didn't catch her eye.

“Should you be drinking?” asked Niko.

Villanelle rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Niko! You can't just ask a woman if she is pregnant!” She giggled in a way that didn't quite fit the tone of the moment. Eve shifted in her seat. Villanelle sighed exasperatedly. “The doctor said one glass a week is fine.” 

“I'm actually surprised you're here,” Niko said to Villanelle.

“Eve and I are very close.” She caught Eve's eye and winked.

“I mean in England.”

“I quite like England, Niko.”

“It isn't…dangerous for you to be here?”

“Oh!” Villanelle clutched a hand to her chest. “You are worried about me! You are too sweet.”

Niko wasn't deterred. “I mean, if you had nothing to be worried about, I suppose you'd be ok. A clean, record, so to speak.”

Villanelle narrowed her eyes minutely.

“I do not know what you mean. There are not many of us these days, with clean records. All it takes in this day and age is one little slip up, one…accusation…and poof!”

Niko stabbed his pasta and Eve poured herself more wine. She had not finished the first glass. If she had been anywhere other than home, she would have been embarrassed by how full her glass was. 

They had barely made their way through their main course when Villanelle reached across to grab Eve's hand on the table. “Eve, can you please get me a pillow? My back is really hurting in this chair.” Eve hesitated. Niko looked at Eve with alarm, not wanting to be left alone with Villanelle.

Villanelle pouted. “Please.”

“Sure.” Eve stood up slowly and tried to watch the two of them for as long as possible before leaving them room. She flew up the stairs and grabbed the nearest pillow. By the time she'd raced back down the stairs, however, Niko already had his coat on. Villanelle was at the sink, bent over as far as she could and elbow deep in suds. Apparently dinner was over.

“You don't want to stay for dessert?” Eve winced when she saw the look on Niko's face, which seemed to read as: you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me.

They stood on the doorstep for a moment, on the threshold of the house they had once shared, in another life. 

“What did she say to you?” Eve asked.

“I don't…how long is she staying, Eve?”

“I don't know, not long?” Even to Eve, that sounded like a lifetime. She wasn't sure she had the strength.

“Eve. It's fucked. You know that right? Do you know how fucked it is? A pregnant psychopath?” Eve's stomach convulsed a little at hearing all of those words strung together in one sentence. The reality of Villanelle's situation was, really, quite scary. Would the apple fall far from the tree? Who sort of child does a violent and diagnosed psychopath spawn?

“You were doing so well, Eve. You've been doing so well. You’re happy at work, you're keeping healthy. Maybe happier than you were when you were married to me. I don't know how much of that's because of Leah, though.”

Eve shrugged. 

“And now she's back.“ He nodded toward the kitchen.“Promise you'll get rid of her, Eve. Don't let her ruin everything again.”

Niko sighed and hugged Eve tight before he left. Eve looked at her front door and wondered if she even wanted to go back in anymore. Niko wasn't right about everything. But this. He was right. She needed to tread carefully. 

When she eventually swung the door open, she was greeted by the sight of Villanelle leaning on the wall in the hallway with a venomous look on her face.

“Who the fuck is Leah, Eve? Hmm?”

Eve's stomach dropped. She hadn't factored this into the equation but she was pretty sure it didn't equal anything good.


	4. Introducing Leah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update! Thank you to everyone who was SO encouraging with the first three chapters. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. 
> 
> This chapter we have: a tiny bit a' Leah, and pancakessssss

Chapter 4 – Introducing Leah

Eve woke with a start as she felt something large and heavy drop onto her bed with a _poof!_

“Would you like blueberries in your pancakes? Hmm?”

Eve rolled over and peeled open her eyes. Through her early morning vision, she made out Villanelle, her porcelain skin and bright eyes. Eve pulled the bedsheets closer. Even though she was fully clothed, there was something about drawing the sheets nearer that made her feel a bit more safe.

Last night had almost been a shit-fest that ended rather anti-climatically. Eve had explained, diplomatically, that _yes,_ she was seeing someone and _yes,_ her name was Leah and _no_ she wasn’t giving Villanelle any more information.

Villanelle had narrowed her eyes and Eve had scoffed and walked away. It wasn’t as if Villanelle had waited around for Eve. Her pregnancy was evidence of that. Villanelle, Eve decided, had no right to judge or know anything about Eve’s current situation.

Villanelle was still waiting for an answer. She’d been waiting long enough that she was starting to nestle her way into mess of sheets and pillows surrounding Eve.

“Blueberry pancakes. Do you want them or not Eve?”

“Oh, um –” 

Eve had woken painfully hungry, like someone had torn a hole in her stomach. But she wasn’t particularly inclined to spend breakfast with Villanelle either. She needed to call Leah. Shit, she needed to get to work. After the weekend Eve had just had, work seemed to exist in a completely parallel universe to what was happening at her home.

Villanelle bounced off the bed. “You know, I was really just being polite in offering. I would rather just eat them all myself,” she said, as she slinked out of Eve’s bedroom.

Eve’s stomached grumbled again.

“Wait! Save me a plate!” Eve rolled her eyes at herself after she said it. She smacked a pillow down onto her face and groaned. She knew this resisting this sort of temptation was just the start.

—

Straight blonde hair, green eyes, no wedding ring. Earlier that morning, Villanelle had watched Leah rowing from across the river. She hadn’t expected Eve’s girlfriend to be so…normal. Leah seemed homey in a way Villanelle definitely was not. They were similar, certainly – they could have been sisters in a pinch if you lined up Villanelle and Leah side by side. Leah would be the older sister, obviously. She was definitely in her late forties – almost nursing home age. It occurred to Villanelle that Leah was _probably_ around the same age as Eve. But Eve was certainly not old and wrinkly. She was beautiful.

Leah’s thighs were wide and strong, her arms just as powerful, moving in time with the rest of the crew as they swept down the river. Beads of sweat glistened on her skin. Surely there were plenty of ways rowers could die in or near a river? A collision with a boat, an oar to the head, a drowning? She watched Leah laugh with her friends as they packed away the equipment. _Let me count the ways,_ Villanelle thought.

—

  
Of course, Villanelle’s plate had the biggest pancakes, but Eve’s had the prettiest. Surprisingly, things had been easier between them over breakfast. Almost too easy. Eve felt herself leaning in to the comfortable domesticity of their morning: pancakes, orange juice, conversation. It scared her a little, how easy it was to do this with Villanelle. She was glad she had to go to work.

“Does Leah make you pancakes?” she asked, as Eve cleared her plate.

Eve hesitated. She thought she had made it clear last night that Leah was off limits. 

“Um no. She eats very healthy. No refined sugar, carbs, fatty meat, dairy.”

“She sounds like fun.”

Eve stopped herself from letting out a laugh and slipped on her jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“Work. It's Monday.”

“Oh. Say hello to Carolyn for me.”

Eve felt herself bristle. Was that a joke? Or was she really that ignorant?

“I don't work there anymore.” 

Did Villanelle really think they would have taken her back after Rome, even if she wanted to? Maybe she could have, but it would never have been the same. Eve felt a pang for all the bridges she burned in Rome and path to it. Hugo, Kenny, Bill. All victims in some way of Eve's crusade. Which achieved what, exactly? Eve shook her head. 

These days, her work took a different angle. She told Villanelle about how she had taken a job in the Foreign & Commonwealth Office, within the government. They negotiated conditions for the release of British citizens abroad wrapped up in or accused of serious crimes. Technically, this wasn’t what the department was for. But as it has been explained to Eve, some individuals were too valuable to the British government to leave languishing in foreign prisons – mostly intelligence officers and criminals who could become valuable assets.

“Huh. People like me.”

“You are not a British citizen.”

Still, Eve was not oblivious to the parallel Villanelle drew. In a lot of ways, the people she worked with and for did have a bit in common with Villanelle, in that they were often capable of doing. They were also starkly different, as Villanelle would never let herself be caught.

Villanelle followed Eve to the doorstep.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" Eve asked.

"Nope." _Yes._

“Will you be ok here, all day?”

Villanelle was licking a spoon clean of Nutella. She hummed.

Eve rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I think you’ll be just fine,” she said. 

Her eyes flickered down to Villanelle's stomach, where a hand rested over it. Eve reached out to touch it gently. Villanelle's breath caught.

“And for God’s sake, at least try to eat a vegetable today. Please.”

Villanelle nodded silently and watched Eve find her way out the gate and head off to work. She wouldn't normally be glad that Eve was heading out so early. 

She rubbed her belly. 

"Come on, baby. We have some big fish to fry today."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a week?? What issss this??
> 
> I'm experimenting a bit with how I write, so please bear with if it's a bit different. Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated.
> 
> Thank you lovely readers for your generous support, kudos and love. x

Eve’s vision blurred. She had been looking at her computer screen far too long. _Monday_, she thought, already feeling as though she had been in the office for hours. A British national, former intelligence, was arrested in Australia overnight on money laundering charges. She spent the morning trawling through his Instagram account: yachts, diamonds, all the playthings. All evidence that he had been putting his former intelligence contacts to good use. Eve wondered what Villanelle would do with herself now that she was back in the UK. It wasn’t as if she could just walk into a job, show her driver’s licence and residency papers and get paid fortnightly. She would need a new identity. Another name. Another backstory. Another life.

The security doors swept open and Eve’s colleague, Miriam, walked in, complete with her lunch bag in tow. Eve knew what was inside that bag. Cans of tuna and eggs. It was all she had ever seen Miriam eat. She tried not to screw up her face at the thought of having to suffer the smell at lunch while Miriam ate it beside her.

Miriam didn’t look up as she bent her stout, slightly pudgy form over her desk and started unpacking her briefcase. “For god’s sake, Eve, don’t start telling me about your weekend again.”

  
“Oh, I wasn’t –”

  
“Because I don’t want to hear it.”  
  
  
“Ok – ” Eve was just about to turn back around to her work when Miriam flipped around to face her, getting a strand of her cropped, dark hair stuck in her eye.

She let out a huff. “If you must know, Eve, Richard died. Had to bury him in the garden.” With that, she put on her super-sized headphones and cranked up her classical music.

Eve breathed a sigh of relief. Once Miriam’s headphones were on, she knew she wouldn’t have to deal with her for the rest of the day. Eve wondered what it was about herself that just seemed to attract chaos and disorder. A psychopath for a houseguest. A nutter cat lady for a deskbuddy.

A honey-blonde head poked out from the office opposite their desks.

“Eve? Can I have a word? I need your briefing on the Gimovsky case.”

Eve gave a polite smile and straightened up her papers, striding towards her boss’s office. She could feel Miriam’s beady little eyes focussing in on her. The Gimovsky case? Maybe she had missed an email over the weekend. The door opened just as she reached for the handle.

“Eve, come in.” She was greeted by her boss’s _professional smile_. Only it was a little bit wider. Just a smidgen. It made Eve smile too. There was no Gimovsky case, she realised.

“Good morning, Leah.”

-

Villanelle had planned big things for the day. No, really, she had. It had involved a good measure of internet research (stalking) followed by plenty of sneakiness. Which is why she couldn’t work out what she was doing lying on her back on a park bench in the middle of the morning.

“I think she’s dead,” a little voice whispered.

“Wow. I’ve never seen a dead person before.”

Villanelle slightly opened one eye and spied two small, identical boys staring down at her.

“I dare you to touch her,” one of the boys said. “With your _finger._”

The boy with round glasses shook his head. “No way, Ravi.”

“Do it.”

“No, please! Don’t make me do it! At least let me use a stick!”

“Neither of you will be poking me with anything!”

The little boys grabbed onto each other and screamed as Villanelle suddenly rose from the dead. She watched them run away through the trees in the park, screeching for their mother. It was delicious.

But not quite as delicious as her breakfast. But the more she thought about her perfect blueberry pancakes, the queasier she started to feel. Suddenly, she remembered how she’d left the house that morning and stopped in the park to sit down, which must have turned into lying down. Then ‘resting her eyes’. Then sleeping on a park bench. In broad daylight. She shook her head at herself. All of those years of training, learning to be aware, read rooms, risk-assess situations in milliseconds. All of it zapped away by an energy draining monster.

She glanced down to her stomach, which was poking out enough by now to strain her silk blouse. She still hadn’t quite gotten used to the look of it. If she didn’t know better, she might have felt like it was attached to her body by accident. She often found herself bumping it on furniture she thought she could squeeze past or rolling over to sleep on her stomach at night, before realising that position had become completely incompatible with sleep. She hated being fat.She looked at her belly sternly.

“I swear, if you put one more rip in my silks or satins, there will be no more apricot flavoured pastries for a week.” She felt a flutter in her stomach. “Exactly. I know they are your favourite, you little – ”

Oh. A flutter? She put a hand to her stomach, wondering if she had imagined it. But then the feeling happened again. It was moving inside her. It was alive. Really alive. And it made her feel sick. 

-

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Leah’s hand snaked around Eve’s waist and pulled her close.

“God, I’ve missed you. How was your trip?”

Leah looked like she hadn’t slept in days – and Eve knew she probably hadn’t either. Her normally glowy skin was slightly dull and her hair had lost its sheen. She had just spent two weeks in Uzbekistan negotiating a prisoner trade.

“Well, we got a result,” she sighed, toying with Eve’s hands in hers. “I had a lot of time to think about things while I was away. I want to talk to you about something, Eve. But I don’t want to do it here.”  
  


Eve tucked back a strand of Leah’s hair from her face and caught the slight scent of something…creek-like? Muddy?

“Were you on the river this morning?”

Leah laughed, nestling her head into Eve’s hand.

“I went out with my rowing group. How on earth do you always do that?”

Eve shrugged, smiled. They had an easy comfort with one another. It was a familiarity they had built slowly, over time. Trading stories, sharing wine, mapping each other’s bodies with their fingertips.

“Shall we do dinner at yours?”

Eve stiffened. She would usually say yes. Almost always.

“Oh, um. No. Let’s go out.”

Leah frowned at her slightly but didn’t question it. In those few minutes, Eve had completely forgotten the mess she had waiting for her at home. And the mess she would have if she didn’t find the courage to explain it to Leah. Maybe she could do it over dinner. After a few glasses of wine. Or a bottle. Each.

There was a knock at the door and both women jumped apart just as Miriam swung it open.

“There is a woman at the front desk who says...wait a second.” Miriam shuffled her hand around in her pocket before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper with a note scrawled across it.

Miriam then started relaying the message in the world’s most flat monotone. “She says ‘...if you do not give me Eve Polastri, I will strangle your chubby little neck with those stupid headphones and hide your body in a store cupboard...’.” Miriam looked up as if she received death threats on the daily. “Should I tell her you’re in or take a message?”


	6. Maybe Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh hello! It's moi. I'm back. Apologies again (are you getting sick of hearing that?) for the iceberg slow updates. Between work and uni and obsessing over Killing Eve, I also trying to write my first book when I'm not eating or sleeping so this poor lil story tends to get left to the wayside. Thank you all so much for the support & lovely comments anyways. <3 
> 
> also, whoever is talking about this story on twitter, I don't actually have twitter, but I see you & I love you. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and leave your suggestions in the comments!
> 
> I have this thing where I like to end every chap note promising I'll update more regularly, and in the interest of continuing the tradition, here ya go: more updates soon! x

‘So?’ Villanelle leaned out from the kitchen, squashing a sandwich into her mouth.

‘So, I thought you would be in bed by this hour.’ Eve dropped her bags onto the hallway table, awkwardly shuffling out of her coat at the same time.

‘Where have you been, anyway? You have no idea what is was like here all evening, Eve.’ She glanced towards the wall. ‘This house makes…sounds.’

Eve scoffed as she brushed past Villanelle into the kitchen, reaching for a clean glass and filling it with water. Villanelle followed close behind, bringing with her the pungent scent of mustard and – marshmallow? Yes, definitely marshmallow. Eve could see it oozing out of the very full, very strange sandwich Villanelle was clutching between her elegant fingers.

‘Were you with Leah?’

Villanelle watched her closely, silently. She swallowed a huge bite of her disgusting sandwich. Eve doesn’t respond. ‘Huh,’ Villanelle whispered glancing away. ‘I thought so.’

While Eve was trying to play it cool, she also knew that the woman in front of her had the patience of a five-year-old, so to draw this out any longer than necessary would be unwise. She re-strategised: deflection.

‘Oksana.’ She saw Villanelle wince, her eyes flicking back to Eve briefly. ‘You came to my workplace and threatened my colleagues today.’

Villanelle was frozen for a beat, before exhaling and rolling her eyes. Eve knew the name thing was a risky play, but hopefully –

‘I needed to see you.’

‘Fuck. You are practically squatting in my house right now. You see me all the time. You didn’t need to accost my colleagues to talk to me.’

Villanelle frowned, setting her disgusting mustard-marshmallow sandwich on the counter.

‘Squatting? I thought you didn’t mind having me here.’

‘Oh god.’ Eve poured the rest of the water down the drain and turned towards the stairs. She was halfway to her bedroom when she heard Villanelle.

‘I felt it move, Eve.’ Her voice was quiet at the bottom of the stairs but it was enough to make Eve freeze. ‘I felt it move and I have no idea what to do. I thought if I could just talk to you-’ Villanelle sunk down to hunch on the bottom stair.

‘Don’t do that.’

‘Do what?’ Villanelle’s voice was muffled from behind her hands.

‘This feeling sorry for yourself bullshit.’

Eve found herself descending the stairs, joining her sitting at the bottom. Being so close, they couldn’t help the way the sides of their thighs press against each other, or the way they inhaled each other’s tired sighs. Villanelle tilted her head to look at the side of Eve’s face, and then met her eyes.

“Fuck.” Eve whispered.

Villanelle let out a quick, breathy laugh. “I know.”

Eve let her eyes linger over Villanelle’s stomach, obscured by a huge woollen jumper. Up until now, Villanelle’s baby had been merely an idea bouncing around in the space between them. An amusing, idea. A worrying idea, for sure. But now this idea was _moving._ Now it was alive in a way it hadn’t been before. Eve and Villanelle had always shared each other with other people, but never like this.

“Oh. Oh!” In an instant, Villanelle reached out and grabbed Eve’s hand, hiking up her jumper and placing it on her bare skin.

Villanelle searched Eve’s eyes, frantic. “There. Can you feel it?”

Eve shook her head. She felt something underneath her hand for sure, but it wasn’t a baby moving. It was a cool, electric kind of fizz. A special Villanelle-brand buzz which Eve’s brain produced and reserved only for moments like this. Villanelle’s hand enveloped her own, pressing it closer to her skin.

‘No?’ She let out a disappointed sigh. ‘Maybe it’s too small.’

‘What does it feel like? For you?’

Villanelle considered the question for a moment.

Eve felt her thumb moving, gently stroking Villanelle’s stomach on its own accord.

‘Tickles. Is that the right word?’

Eve nodded. She leaned down to Villanelle’s middle and whispered a quiet, ‘Hello in there.’

At first, this interaction earnt a brief, nervous laugh from Villanelle. But she quickly tugged her jumper over belly, pushing Eve away.

‘Don’t get too attached, Eve.’

Eve returned both hands to her lap, cold.

‘How long do you have to decide?’

Villanelle shrugged, staring through the stair bannisters. They were badly painted, those bannisters. Eve hoped Villanelle wasn’t looking to closely. Eve could see, in that paintwork, more than just messy brushstrokes. She could see the hours she and Niko spent doing that paint job themselves, the year the renovated downstairs instead of going on holiday. She could see the time Niko let her pick the colour (white, again) and the specks of paint they flicked on each other as they applied it. It felt strange to recall a memory so old and so removed from the life she was living now. And so removed from the person in front of her right now, on those same stairs.

‘A few days ago, you told me you wanted to keep it.’

‘Maybe I’ve changed my mind,’ she said quietly.

It was a nugget of honesty, and combined with the fact Villanelle was looking away from her, Eve felt emboldened to ask what she did next. It was easier to do things like that when Villanelle was not staring right at her and into her soul.

‘Tell me how this happened again, anyway.’

Villanelle straightened. She started fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, unspooling a wayward thread from the knit. ‘I told you, it was a mistake.’

‘So, what – you forgot to take a pill or use a condom - ?’ Eve forced herself to say the words before she lost the courage, blushing at the thought of discussing contraception with _Villanelle._

‘Yes,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘That is right, I forgot to take a pill.’ Villanelle nodded while she said this. ‘A mistake.’

‘You know, I’ve thought for a long time,’ Eve glanced up to make sure she had Villanelle’s full attention. ‘That you are the smartest person I know. The most aware. Most vigilant.’

She saw a smile playing on Villanelle’s lips. ‘I _am _all of those things, Eve.’

‘And I always thought you never made mistakes.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just saying that this is odd. Do you not think this is odd, Villanelle? That you live your life hyper-hyper aware of every little detail, around you, and then bam! Whoops. You’re pregnant.’

She felt Villanelle shift away from her, as much was possible, on the stair.

‘You think I did this on purpose?’ She could see Villanelle steeling herself, ready for a fight. ‘I know you don’t like to acknowledge this Eve, but I am actually human too.’

‘Fuck. Don’t make this about the feelings thing, Oksana. You know it’s not about that.’ Eve paused, trying to order her thoughts coherently. ‘I’m just saying, that maybe you could have done this subconsciously. Maybe you wanted a baby and didn’t know it? I just think that’s the most plausible option here.’

Villanelle didn’t even let the thought settle before she delivered her reply. ‘No.’

Villanelle hauled herself up using the bannister, almost elbowing Eve. ‘I’m having a bath. Do not come in unless you want your head under the water.’

Eve rolled her eyes. Hell hath no sulky like a put-out, unemployed, pregnant assassin.


End file.
